


Ruined Cut-Offs

by Julibean19



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Getting Together, Jack being Jack, Love Confessions, M/M, Pie Disaster, Short & Sweet, fuck the LAX bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26287741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julibean19/pseuds/Julibean19
Summary: This is the first time that Jack has come back to Samwell for a party since he joined the Falconers, and Bitty had planned to spend the evening subtly flirting and plying him with baked goods, not combing the cherry pie filling out of his hair with his fingers.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 32
Kudos: 239





	Ruined Cut-Offs

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short fic I found in my Google Drive while organizing the chapters of Holy Ground. I 100% forgot I wrote this and just had it labeled "Shower Tumblr Fic." I actually went through my entire writing tag on tumblr to make sure I hadn't already posted it. It hasn't been beta read, so there may be some typos. Just thought I'd throw it up here for fun. Enjoy!

Bitty is furious. Olly and Wicks better be gone by the time he gets out of the shower or there will be hell to pay. 

When he outlined the SMH bylaws during the taddy tour, he expected his frogs to take the rules seriously, _ not _ literally. Apparently, “FFFFUCK THE LAX BROS” was taken as less of a warning and more of a challenge, because between the two of them, Olly and Wicks have taken it upon themselves to sleep with every member of the Samwell Men’s Lacrosse team and rank their sexual prowess on a spreadsheet made by none other than Justin Oluransi. 

The concept, while crude, isn’t without its merits. Bitty can see the appeal of playing the field, albeit the lacrosse field. If he wasn’t so hung up on a certain blue-eyed perfectionist, he might have given it a go himself, but that’s not the point. The point is, you don’t invite your lax bro booty call to a kegster. Ever. It’s just not done. Bitty’s pretty sure that’s codified behind the dryer somewhere. Lax bros are not to step foot in the Haus, especially not tonight. 

This is the first time that Jack has come back to Samwell for a post-game party since he joined the Falconers, and Bitty had planned to spend the evening subtly flirting and plying him with baked goods, not combing the cherry pie filling out of his hair with his fingers. 

One does not play keep away with a freshly baked pie in his kitchen. One certainly doesn’t do it over the baker’s admittedly short head.

As soon as Bitty is out of the shower, he’s going to beat that Chad with his MooMaw’s rolling pin so hard he’ll think he was chilled puff pastry. Not only does he smell like cinnamon and shame, but his chest is burned from the piping hot filling and his favorite pair of bleached cut-offs are all but ruined. 

Bitty had plans for those cut-offs. They showed off the curve of his ass perfectly and when he did a kegstand in them, they were practically indecent. Bitty knew that if he tugged on the waistband of them just so, they revealed a tantalizing bit of his hipbone that had several of Lardo’s artsy friends asking for his phone number. A few slices of cherry pie and two upbeat Beyoncé songs and Bitty would have had Jack Zimmermann melting in the palm of his hand. 

Instead, Bitty is furiously scrubbing at the front of his shorts with a bar of soap, having jumped into the shower fully clothed. It wouldn’t do for the stains to set and there was no way he was running down to the basement to pretreat them when he still had globs of cherries congealing in his bangs. 

Pulling off his tank top, Bitty hisses as the water hits his burned chest. He fumbles with the dial but the water just gets hotter. With a yelp, he lunges forward and slams the knob in to kill the spray. He’s just about to pull off his shorts to assess the damage that’s been done to his ass when the doorknob turns with a click and someone enters the bathroom. 

Shocked, Bitty opens his mouth to protest, but the door closes quickly and he hears the ancient metal lock slide home just before a familiar voice fills the room. 

“Tabarnak,” Jack curses and turns on the sink. 

Bitty listens to him splash water on his face and then use the hand towel to pat himself dry. He knows Jack has trouble with crowds. He barely made it to kegsters when he lived in the Haus. The fact that he drove here and managed to make it this far into the evening when he’s clearly uncomfortable is really rather sweet. 

“Man up, Zimmermann,” Jack tells himself firmly. “He's just wearing short-shorts. That doesn’t make him a different person. Forget how nice his new haircut looks. _You had a plan_.”

Covering his mouth with his hand, Bitty inches closer to the shower curtain and listens. It’s not his fault Jack didn’t knock before bursting into the bathroom. It might be his fault that he forgot to lock the door before hopping in the shower, but he had been trying to save himself from a second-degree cherry burn. It was an emergency, really. It couldn’t be helped. 

“You can do this,” Jack says, voice barely audible above the music that’s still blaring from downstairs. “Bittle,” he begins, but stops himself, banging his hand against the sink in frustration. “Bitty—no. Eric,” he says.

Bitty gasps. This can’t be happening. He’s finally going to hear what Jack really thinks of him and he’s dripping wet, still covered in cherry pie filling, and can’t even say anything because he’s not supposed to be here.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” Jack says. “I’d like to date, please.”

Biting down hard on his lower lip, Bitty forces himself to keep quiet. It’s so formal, so clear, not that Jack would do it any other way, but it’s more than Eric ever could have hoped for.

“That’s it, that’s all you have to say,” Jack tells himself, taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly. 

Bitty pictures him, wants to memorize what he looks like at this very moment. He’s probably sweating. It’s gross. The air downstairs is sticky and there’s never enough water to drink. The bottles always seem to disappear as soon as the tub juice runs out and even the Chads are smart enough not to trust the Haus' ancient pipes. Jack's eyes are probably dark, his brow furrowed in worry. He might be shaking. It doesn’t happen often, but Bitty knows Jack sometimes has a tremor that he fights down through sheer force of will. 

This poor fool is probably out of his mind, terrified of what Bitty is going to say, afraid of rejection, and Bitty can’t let that go on a minute longer. 

“Jack?” he asks, voice light and breathy. 

“Eric?” Jack says in disbelief. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I’m in here, Jack,” Bitty says, taking one last fortifying breath before pulling the shower curtain back. “I was in the shower when you came in.”

Jack stares at him for a long moment, eyes roving everywhere.

It doesn’t escape Bitty’s attention that he’s half-naked and dripping wet. He clutches his soaking tank top in front of his stomach and bites down on his lip again. “I’m sorry. I should have said something earlier. I was just embarrassed.”

Jack’s expression is unreadable. His lips are curled into a frown but his eyes are soft, almost pleading. He reaches a hand out and wraps his fingers around Bitty’s wrist. “You’re hurt,” he says, nodding his head toward Bitty’s chest.

“One of the Chads burned me with that last cherry pie.”

“Need me to get the fire extinguisher?” Jack asks, a playful smirk twitching around his lips. 

“Don’t you dare,” Bitty says, dropping his shirt to the floor and holding out one hand. 

Jack stares at it for an agonizing moment before stepping forward to take it. 

“I do too, you know.”

“What?” Jack asks, gaze darting down to Bitty’s lips for a split second before resettling on his eyes. 

“Love you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Bitty says with a smile. “Oh.”

“You still have berries in your hair,” Jack offers, reaching up with his free hand to pull half a cherry from somewhere behind Bitty’s ear. 

Bitty turns away just long enough to turn the water back on. The spray is cold at first, but it warms up quickly. Turning back to look at Jack over his shoulder, he tugs ever so slightly on his hand. “Want to help me clean up?”

Jack nods, already kicking off his shoes. He climbs in after Bitty, fully clothed, amidst peals of laughter. 

“I did hear that door lock, right, Mister Zimmermann?”

“Ouais.”

“Oh, good,” Bitty says, leaning in for what he knows will be the first kiss of thousands. “I wouldn’t want anyone else walking in on me in the shower.”

“Just me?” Jack asks, lips just barely brushing Bitty’s.

“Just you, sugar.”


End file.
